


Pretty Kitty

by Morgana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pet Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a new position in life</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Kitty

He wasn’t sure exactly what woke him - he’d have said it was footsteps outside, but the stairs and hallway that led to his room were carpeted, and not with the cheap stuff, either. No, this was wall to wall, thick, lush carpet, and you could probably clomp around in combat boots and never hear it. Not that Stiles would ever be allowed to find out.

Combat boots, like so many other things, weren’t allowed here.

There was the faint scrape of a key in the lock and then the thick oak door swung open. He blinked sleepily at the figure in the doorway, for a moment tempted to just snuggle back down into the plush mattress and lush pillows around him, but then he smelled it.

Food. And not just any food, but fries! He sniffed the air, mouth watering at the scent of grease and potatoes and salt, then rolled out of bed. Hands and knees hit the floor and he stretched just the way he’d been taught, offering a long, lean line to look at, before he crawled towards the source of that delicious smell. The little bell attached to the black leather cord around his neck jingled faintly, a light chime that he knew would only get louder by the end of the night.

“Hey, there, kitty, you want a treat?” A hand settled on his head, scratching faintly as fingers worked over his scalp, seeking out one ear and rubbing behind it.

Great. He was going to have to ‘talk’ again. These nights were the worst, but he wanted those fries, dammit, so he swallowed back the snarky response that was his first instinct and let out a weak “Meow” instead.

“Good boy.” He was rewarded with a single piece of greasy deliciousness that fairly melted on his tongue. Nearly melted him, too, seeing as he hadn’t had anything but the approved meat chunks and dried veggie piece mix for over three years. Another meow got him two more, and then he was offered another when he moved forward and pressed against a denim-clad leg.

The door to his suite was closed and his owner walked over to the couch, trailing the smell of fries and the possible hope of burgers to go along with them with him. Stiles followed, slinking forward in a sinuous crawl, When he reached the couch, he paused, wiggled his butt, and hopped up. His reward for this humiliating performance was a chuckle and an indulgent, “I really shouldn’t let you on the couch, you know. You’re going to get spoiled if you aren’t careful.” But the words were accompanied with three more precious fries, so he ignored them and rolled onto his back, laying his head on a muscled thigh while he chewed.

A hand stroked down over his chest, petting him with long, slow strokes, while another fry was offered. “You gonna purr for me tonight, kitty?”

There was a part of him that wanted to say no, wanted to scream that he was a man, dammit, not some fucking cat, but he’d learned long ago how useless that was. So he just meowed again and chewed on the fries he was given for that, relaxing back against leather supple and smooth as a baby’s ass while he was petted and stroked until his cock was a hard line rising over his stomach. “There it is. Look at you, such a pretty kitty when you’re hard for me."

He could hear the rustle of fabric, could smell leather, sharp and rich, as the glove was pulled on. Then fingers wrapped around him, the leather sleek and oiled, and he couldn’t not moan in response. This was at once the best and worst thing about his situation - sex on tap, and really damn hot sex at that, but he had to be a goddamned cat to get it. And he’d found out quickly enough that he wasn’t one of those guys that could bear up in stoic silence and refuse to respond. No, somebody touched his dick and he turned into a complete slut for them, ready and willing to do whatever it took to have them keep touching his dick and then do it again once they were done.

“Gonna give me some milk, kitty?” The low question sent heat burning up his spine and he moaned again as those slick fingers stroked him with a rhythm that was leading just one place. One very, very pleasurable place. “Yeah, I can see you are.” He could hear his owner starting to breathe harder, feel the hard lump of his cock forming inside his jeans against Stiles’ ear. “Come on, kitty. Wanna see you shoot, gonna lick it all up and then I’ll give you some cream.”

Just like always, he was an absolute sucker for the dirty talk. He wanted to beg for more, but all he could do was moan as the hand worked him over. God, he was close. So fucking close... A thumb stroked over his leaking tip and his owner growled, “Gonna have to come if you wanna get fucked, kitty.”

And that did it. Stiles let out a yowl as he started to come, his dick throbbing in his owner’s fist as he shot one long creamy streak after another, bucking up into the tight grip that stroked him when he started to come down, drawing it out until he was left with only one thing to do.

He looked up into blue eyes that fairly burned down at him, took a shaky breath, and purred.


End file.
